


Who we are

by Elenyafinwe



Series: Peredhil [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, Family, First Age, Gen, Identity, One Shot, War of Wrath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25130938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenyafinwe/pseuds/Elenyafinwe
Summary: Eärendil has come to Beleriand to help the army of the Valar to its final victory. This would be the opportunity for Elrond and Elros to meet their father, but they refuse. But then a messenger of Eönwe comes to Maedhros and Maglor and announces that Manwe's herald wishes to speak to the Half-elves, and they cannot refuse.
Relationships: Elrond Peredhel & Elros Tar-Minyatur, Elrond Peredhel & Elros Tar-Minyatur & Maglor | Makalaurë
Series: Peredhil [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2077245
Comments: 7
Kudos: 60





	Who we are

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Wer wir sind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24540370) by [Elenyafinwe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elenyafinwe/pseuds/Elenyafinwe). 



These days there was a strange atmosphere in the manor house on the Amon Ereb. For many years the Host of the Valar had been fighting with Morgoth in the north and the country was in turmoil. They felt it until here. Maedhros and Maglor had stayed out of this conflict and did not comment on it, but Elrond and Elros, however young they may be, still felt what was going on inside them.

Eärendil had come to Beleriand with his _silmaril_ , bringing him back within reach. And the oath still rumbled in Feanor's eldest sons.

But they kept silent and did not talk about it. Perhaps it was this very silence that caused the twins so much concern.

The clang of swords could be heard, accompanied by soft harp music. Uncle Maedhros was practicing sword fighting with Elrond and Elros, as so often these days, while Uncle Maglor sat nearby and played the harp. It was a wild melody that spoke of war, but also with a bitter undertone. They fought with sharp blades, for now they were grown up, uncle Maedhros had said.

Elrond was nervous and did not feel comfortable with the sword in his hand that his uncle had forged for him. They had only fought with training swords with blunted blades before. They had suffered several wounds, but never seriously injured themselves.

Maedhros didn't spare them and even with only one hand and the sword in his left hand he had no problems to strike the twins properly.

"More footwork, Elros!" he demanded. "Always keep moving! Elrond, get more active! Get out of the defense!"

Three swift sword strokes and the twins' swords flew out of their hands.

"Dead," Uncle Maedhros commented only. "Again."

Elrond rubbed his aching hand. He glanced at uncle Maglor as if he was hoping to get help from there, but Maglor did not stop at his harp playing. Uncle Maglor was usually the one who called his brother to be lenient with his adopted sons, but in this matter he was just as adamant. There was war at Beleriand, and though the Valar army bound most of Morgoth's forces in the north, the rest of the country was largely unprotected and dangerous. The two Feanorians insisted that the twins learn to defend themselves and they were bitterly serious about it.

Even though Maglor had said more than once that he wished it were different and they could have grown up in peacetime.

Unwillingly, Elrond and Elros lifted their swords and faced Uncle Maedhros again. They were out of breath, but not yet at their wits' end. Uncle Maedhros wouldn't give them any rest as long as they could stand on their feet anyway. An old fire burned in his eyes, and Elrond had to admit to himself that it scared him quite a bit.

All of a sudden the harp fell silent and Uncle Maglor joined them. "Brother, we have a visitor."

Uncle Maedhros had no doubt noticed this visit long before, but Elrond saw only now that a strange elf was approaching the training grounds. It was a tall elf with almost porcelain skin and golden hair. Elrond recognized the heraldry on the elven's armor: It was one of Ingwion's people, a vanya. Astonished, he paused and let the sword sink. The training for the day was probably over. In all this time, no messenger of the army had ever reached them in the north. Apparently the silent agreement not to meet each other was over.

Elrond noticed how tense uncle Maedhros suddenly became. Was he expecting bad news? What was this elf doing here?

"You are on my land without question," said uncle Maedhros and confronted the stranger, sword in hand. "Speak quickly. Who are you and what do you want here?"

Though the elf was great, Uncle Maedhros still outdid him. He seemed unimpressed by it, at least outwardly, not even by the sword. Calmly, he watched the scene that presented itself to him. His gaze remained fixed on Elrond and Elros.

"So it is true then," he said softly more to himself. To Uncle Maedhros he continued, "I come with a message from Eönwe to the sons of Eärendil."

Elrond froze. Uncle Maglor placed himself before them protectively, as if they were still little children.

Of course, they had already spoken of this when they heard Eärendil had come to Beleriand. Uncle Maglor had asked them if they wanted to meet their father. The twins' answer was clear: no. No, they wanted nothing to do with this man.

"Should Eärendil wish to see them, I must disappoint him," said Maglor with an icy cold undertone in his voice. " They do not wish to meet him."

With an unbelievable arrogance, the messenger examined him from top to bottom. "Is it because you have forbidden them?"

Maedhros needed only to take a step towards him and lightly lift his sword to make the situation seem more threatening all at once.

"This is my house and I will not tolerate such words here," he said softly. But it was enough. All of a sudden the stranger seemed to understand on what thin ice he was skating on here.

"'It is our own free will that we want nothing to do with Eärendil,' Elros said. "To outsiders it often seems hard to understand, but yes: We do have free will."

That apparently gave the elf a good push off the bow. "Nevertheless, Eönwe urged me to escort you north to meet him as he wishes to speak with you. His orders were clear."

Elrond was most uncomfortable with the whole situation. One false step and this could end badly.

"What can he want from us?" he asked.

"He did not tell me," the messenger confessed.

"Elrond, Elros, you will have to comply," Uncle Maglor now turned directly to them. "But I will go with you."

Elrond sighed in relief. At least a little.

"You are not allowed to enter the camp, Makalaure," the messenger immediately objected.

Maglor was adamant. "Then Eönwe must either come to us or meet us on neutral ground. I will not let them anywhere near Eärendil."

"What arrogance!" growled the messenger angrily. "That you still dare defy the Valar."

"Until my last breath, if that is what I must do to protect Elrond and Elros," Maglor countered.

The messenger examined the four in silence for quite a while and seemed to consider what he should do. Uncle Maglor and Maedhros stood before him like a bulwark that he could not possibly overcome. Finally he nodded hesitantly.

"Very well," he conceded. "A meeting on neutral ground will surely be arranged."

"And I demand that Eärendil not approach us," Uncle Maglor added. "I know he's in the North and he carries something that belongs to us."

"Is that a threat?"

"Yes."

Uncle Maglor's directness left the Vanya speechless.

"You'd better go now," Uncle Maedhros said, as before, with dangerous calm.

Without another word, the messenger turned and disappeared into the forest.

Only now did Elrond feel how tense he had been all along. His shoulders slumped.

"Why did you approach the _silmaril_ , uncle?" he asked. "You're not thinking of...?"

Uncle Maglor put a reassuring hand on each one's shoulder and looked them in the eye. All the danger that had emanated from him moments earlier had fallen away from him and he seemed as gentle as ever.

"No, I did not", he said. "I merely reminded the messenger that his masters had better act wisely and not risk letting things get out of hand."

Elrond was relieved. If his uncles should really try to steal Eärendil the _silmaril_ , it could only end in disaster. He was glad that they didn't seem to be planning to do so.

"Nevertheless, you will have to leave," Maglor said regretfully. "Don't give Eönwe any reason to be angry, and don't blame it on what we are doing."

"As long as you are with us, nothing will happen," Elros was sure.

Since Uncle Maglor insisted that they would not anger Eönwe by making him wait, they prepared their departure that very day. Somewhat reluctantly, Maedhros granted the messenger hospitality and gave him a bed and some food until they could leave. Equally reluctantly, the stranger agreed, but continued to insist on following Eönwe's orders faithfully and bringing Elrond and Elros to him personally. He still had not told them his name and did not seem to intend to.

Uncle Maglor seemed to want to get the whole thing over with quickly, so the four of them left the very next day. Maglor didn't want to take an escort from his household to avoid giving an overly warlike impression that might have provoked the other side. They went armed nevertheless.

The messenger set a tight pace and seemed to want to get it all over just as quickly. He kept to himself most of the time and did not get involved in any conversation. Not that the others were particularly interested. Elrond noticed that he almost involuntarily adopted the reluctance that uncle Maglor openly displayed to the Vanya. He was glad when all this was over.

Eärendil.

Their father was in Beleriand and with him an army of eagles, sent by Manwe to assist his army in distress. It couldn't look good in the north or Eärendil wouldn't be here. The twins had mixed feelings. On the one hand, they were afraid that the army of the Valar would be overrun. On the other hand, they would have preferred Eärendil to stay far, far away in Valinor. Having him within reach now triggered a whole range of confusing feelings in them.

"You are not alone," uncle Maglor affirmed one evening.

"Until now, the question of whether we wanted to meet Eärendil was a purely hypothetical one," said Elros. "And we knew the answer to that. But now..."

"I'm scared," Elrond confessed. "What if he shows up anyway? What if he looks like us? What if we have more of him than we want?"

"I do not want to be associated with that man, much less with him as our father."

"Actions matter more than blood," Maglor said in a soothing tone. "If you do not want him to be your father, then so be it. You are not his possessions just because he brought you into the world."

"What if he feels differently?" Elrond asked anxiously.

In reply, uncle Maglor pulled them into his arms without a word, as if they were still little children. They gratefully wrapped their arms around him. He was their father, and nothing would ever change that.

The next day they reached the army camp.

It was a huge structure stretching miles and miles ahead of them. An endless sea of banners blew over it. Dark clouds hung in the sky, hiding the view into the distance. But Elrond knew that somewhere back there lay Angband, the enemy's stronghold and place of nameless terror. He had never been so far north and wished it had stayed that way.

The messenger had them wait about a mile from the army camp and went to tell Eönwe that they were now ready to speak with him. All the while, Elrond had thought of nothing but Eärendil, and had ignored that one of the Maiar, Manwe's herald himself, had asked for them. He could not explain what this was all about if not Eärendil.

"Look there, brother", Elros said suddenly and pointed into the distance.

When Elrond followed his hint, he spotted a ship to his amazement. It seemed tiny at a distance, yet it had to be of considerable size. But the strangest thing was that it floated in the air, moored to a wooden construction.

"Vingilot," said Uncle Maglor only gloomily.

The light of the _silmaril_ was nowhere to be seen. Elrond was astonished, for it was bright enough to shine in the night sky as star. Was Eärendil hiding?

At least this question was answered when they detected movements at the edge of the camp. A small group of people stepped out between the tents and approached them. Even though Elrond had never seen any of them, he recognized them immediately.

Eönwe was unmistakably the herald of Manwe, his standard-bearer and leader of his armies. His appearance left no doubt as to his position in this world. A god indeed, who walked the mortal lands.

And that blond man who stayed behind at the edge of the camp could not be anyone else but Eärendil, for he was carrying the _silmaril_ with him. He was veiled and yet shone far brighter than any light Elrond had ever seen on earth, yet without blinding. Even at a distance, he could see that this man bore an undeniable resemblance to his brother and him. He felt sick.

Eönwe approached them alone.

Maglor grabbed the handle of his sword and seemed more angry than Elrond had ever seen him.

"I have asked that he not appear here," he hissed and pointed to Eärendil. He did not seem to want to approach them.

"And I did not send for you, Feanorion, and yet here you are, ready for battle," Eönwe replied calmly.

"We all have to be able to defend ourselves. I cannot protect Elrond and Elros forever, and the world is a dangerous place," Maglor said with a laboriously controlled anger in his voice.

"Indeed," Eönwe agreed. "And as for Eärendil, he has set foot on mortal ground one last time to see his sons. Can you deny him that?"

"He has no clai...", uncle Maglor began, but then interrupted himself, remembering his own principles. He had always raised Elrond and Elros knowing who their real family was, and had forbidden them to call him father. Elrond knew, however, that he still considered them his sons and loved them as his own flesh and blood.

"He has no claim on them, you mean to say?" Eönwe did not let go. Then he turned directly to the twins. "I want to know what you think."

Elrond looked in the direction of Eärendils and felt anger and disgust seethe within him, if he even thought of being related to this man. Yet he tried hard to control his emotions.

"Eärendil is not our father and we wish not to be associated with him," he said. "Maglor took us in when we were helpless little children. He gave us a home and a family and loved us as his own flesh and blood. I can't say Eärendil or Elwing had ever done that. I have no memories of him because he was never around and was always at sea, and Elwing too is just a fading memory of a woman who cared more about a stone than her sons. We know of no other family but Maglor and Maedhros, who always have our best interests at heart and are concerned for our welfare."

"But weren't they the ones who destroyed your home and robbed you of Eärendil and Elwing? Didn't they rob them of their chance to prove themselves as parents?" Eönwe asked further.

Elrond wasn't sure if they had been tested or if Eönwe really wanted to find out these things. He decided to stick with the truth.

"They were withholding something that belonged to Maglor and Maedhros," he said. "They were challenging their own fate."

"Whether Feanor's sons are still entitled to the _silmaril_ remains to be seen," Eönwe said unmoved. He did not let it be known what he thought of Elrond's perspective. "Their fate will be decided, but the time has not yet come. Though it speaks well for you, Makalaure, that you show mercy to your enemy's sons and keep them safe."

Elrond was not certain this was a threat.

"But it was not a father's wish to see his sons again, which is why I called you here," Eönwe continued. "The fate of the _peredhil_ must be decided. Eärendil and Elwing already know this, but I will now announce Manwe's will to you as well. You are descended in equal parts from Eldar and Edain, so you are free to decide which fate you feel you belong to. You do not have to decide today or tomorrow, but you must decide."

Maglor laughed without joy. "How cruel the Valar are."


End file.
